Mom and I won tickets to the Canadian Country Music Awards taking place last night in the arena five minutes from my house. I knew Mom really wanted to see them live, and I'd never been to anything like it, so we decided to pretend it was a Friday night and go on the heels of seeing Keith in Toronto. I mean if I can watch an Aussie rock country I should support my fellow Canadians in their endeavour to do the same, right? Nice theory, but again, I say, MEHHH. Mom rushed over to pick me up directly from work because the organizers said the doors would be opening at 5:30PM. I was dropped off at the box office doors and told to go inside and see if they would let me in. So, ticket in hand, I entered the side doors as Mom went off in search of a coveted parking space.
I zipped right past the box office wickets heading for the side entry where I know the elevator is (I don't do escalators) A gentlemen was standing at the door blocking my way but a quick "excuse me, I need the elevator." moved him right out of my path. A girl in a wheelchair was already sitting by the doors waiting to go up to her seats, so when the doors slid open to reveal an attendant, she took her upstairs (to the disabled section) and me down to the ground level since we had floor seats. The doors opened and she told me to head around to the right. I immediately knew something was off. There were few people around, and when I handed my ticket to a girl standing there, she had no idea what to do with me. I told her that the seats were general admission and I was trying to get out on the floor before the masses came in and trampled me. She studied my ticket, clearly not knowing what to make of it. "I'll have to go check with someone," she mumbled, "I'm just the greeter." While she was gone, I started looking around. People were running back and forth with food, flowers, and whatever else they could carry. A woman came rushing out to speak to another smartly dressed woman. "Dressing Rooms this way, green room that way. Don't forget!" It seems I had stumbled right into the VIP section. LOL It was then that I started noticing the VIP tags/creditials around everyones' necks.
Five minutes later, the girl came back with my ticket, accompanied by a security guard. Neither one could make sense of my ticket, rushing off to talk to yet another body while leaving me standing there. Finally, they come back with lady number three. "Ummm how did you get down here?" I patiently explained that I had walked in the side doors and ridden the elevator down. The frown on her face was almost comical. "They aren't letting people in yet, there's security all over the place." Not sure what to say to that, I stood there waiting to find out what they are going to do with me. Finally, they opted to get me a chair and stick me in a corner. They were clearly concerned about my "security breech" but didn't want to kick me out for fear of having an issue should I have problems getting to my seat. "We'll have someone escort you to your seat after they open the doors." Umm...Okay. I could hear a sound check going on behind me and desperately want to rip open the curtain to hear Ronnie Dunn sing and wait for it...I hear Keith Urban's voice. Mom and I had speculated that he might be there live (after being in the area for his Toronto concert) so I just blantantly ask the greeter chick "Is he here?" I didn't even have to say his name. Peeking behind the curtain she says "No, it's a video message, he's on the big screen." Total letdown.
I knew that Mom was going to come back from parking the car soon and she had forgotten her cell phone, so we had no way to communicate. She was going to be entering the box office doors to find me gone and given how uptight they were about me getting down to the ground level, I worried that she wouldn't find me. They wouldn't let me ride back up in the elevator to find her so I just had to sit there, hoping she would be able to find me. Ten minutes later, she came gliding down the escalator. The people standing in line next to the elevator told her they had seen me once she described what I was wearing. Now two of us were standing around in the basement where nobody wanted us. By this point it was 5:45pm. They were fifteen minutes late, and it was hot outside. Mom complained to one of the attendants that they were fifteen minutes late opening the doors with hoards of people standing out on the sidewalk. Only those that knew about the side entrance were getting in. "If they aren't finished setting up, we can't open the doors." Both of us rolled our eyes. We had just been at the Air Canada Centre two nights before where people are treated like gold. Events don't run late, and the seating staff know every inch of the place and where people are supposed to be. They don't leave disabled people standing around and they don't ignore you because it suits them. Anyway, two minutes after Mom mentioned people baking out on the sidewalk, the EMT's were called upstairs because someone had passed out. Nice.
Finally, as people started streaming in, they opened the mysterious black curtain and let us in. We headed for the first row of chairs we saw (oddly enough they were to the side of the stage) and the women was all "No, no you're down here..." Cue my shocked face. It was a frigging mosh pit. I'm not kidding. No seats, just a big old hole in front of the stage with stairs leading down to it. Right, I was going to stand for three hours. Not $#@# likely. I sat on the stage while Mom raced off to try to solve this latest problem. Fifteen minutes later, some promo chick comes right up to me, extending her hand out "I'm so amd so, I'm going to get you a chair and you can sit off to the side." Okay great, problem solved right? Only, we got there early for nothing. We got stuck in another corner where videographers and cameramen walked in front of us all night. I think what bugged me the most was the fact that the radio station never mentioned that the "seats" were in a mosh pit and we were expected to act like crazy fangirls. No kidding, people were actually given instructions on how to act/what to do and the station had plants everywhere holding up station signs. It was beyond tacky. Couple that with the fact that the same Canadians get nominated every year because Canada is totally lacking in original artists and honestly, the majority of the artists still have to play the fair curcuit to make a living. If they're smart, they write their own material, that's where the money is but it's not unusual to see one artist win the same category three years in a row. Not because they are oozing talent, but because they release new albums quickly and their competition is limited. BORING.
Best performance of the night went to Ronnie Dunn (formerly of Brooks and Dunn) and he's not even Canadian he was a " special guest.." Mom and I passed the time pretending to mug for the camera while we got completely ignored in our little corner, chowing down on bananas because we were starving and had snuck stuff in in our purses. Seriously, it was all a little pathetic. Big "pass" on the festivities when they came back to Hamilton in a few years. Total amateur hour on so many levels from the disorganized arena to the cheesy radio station plug. No thanks, I can do much better in the prize department. :-)
Oh well, at least I got to see Keith's smiling face again, even if it was only on the big screen! :-)And I got to breech security, not my first time doing that either, it's shocking how I seem to be "invisible" to most despite walking with crutches. Twice in the last month I've had people come to my place to pick up tickets only to have them walk right past me as I was sitting on a bench right in front of their face. I've often told Mom "I could rob a bank and no one would notice." Sad, but true.
I zipped right past the box office wickets heading for the side entry where I know the elevator is (I don't do escalators) A gentlemen was standing at the door blocking my way but a quick "excuse me, I need the elevator." moved him right out of my path. A girl in a wheelchair was already sitting by the doors waiting to go up to her seats, so when the doors slid open to reveal an attendant, she took her upstairs (to the disabled section) and me down to the ground level since we had floor seats. The doors opened and she told me to head around to the right. I immediately knew something was off. There were few people around, and when I handed my ticket to a girl standing there, she had no idea what to do with me. I told her that the seats were general admission and I was trying to get out on the floor before the masses came in and trampled me. She studied my ticket, clearly not knowing what to make of it. "I'll have to go check with someone," she mumbled, "I'm just the greeter." While she was gone, I started looking around. People were running back and forth with food, flowers, and whatever else they could carry. A woman came rushing out to speak to another smartly dressed woman. "Dressing Rooms this way, green room that way. Don't forget!" It seems I had stumbled right into the VIP section. LOL It was then that I started noticing the VIP tags/creditials around everyones' necks.
Five minutes later, the girl came back with my ticket, accompanied by a security guard. Neither one could make sense of my ticket, rushing off to talk to yet another body while leaving me standing there. Finally, they come back with lady number three. "Ummm how did you get down here?" I patiently explained that I had walked in the side doors and ridden the elevator down. The frown on her face was almost comical. "They aren't letting people in yet, there's security all over the place." Not sure what to say to that, I stood there waiting to find out what they are going to do with me. Finally, they opted to get me a chair and stick me in a corner. They were clearly concerned about my "security breech" but didn't want to kick me out for fear of having an issue should I have problems getting to my seat. "We'll have someone escort you to your seat after they open the doors." Umm...Okay. I could hear a sound check going on behind me and desperately want to rip open the curtain to hear Ronnie Dunn sing and wait for it...I hear Keith Urban's voice. Mom and I had speculated that he might be there live (after being in the area for his Toronto concert) so I just blantantly ask the greeter chick "Is he here?" I didn't even have to say his name. Peeking behind the curtain she says "No, it's a video message, he's on the big screen." Total letdown.
I knew that Mom was going to come back from parking the car soon and she had forgotten her cell phone, so we had no way to communicate. She was going to be entering the box office doors to find me gone and given how uptight they were about me getting down to the ground level, I worried that she wouldn't find me. They wouldn't let me ride back up in the elevator to find her so I just had to sit there, hoping she would be able to find me. Ten minutes later, she came gliding down the escalator. The people standing in line next to the elevator told her they had seen me once she described what I was wearing. Now two of us were standing around in the basement where nobody wanted us. By this point it was 5:45pm. They were fifteen minutes late, and it was hot outside. Mom complained to one of the attendants that they were fifteen minutes late opening the doors with hoards of people standing out on the sidewalk. Only those that knew about the side entrance were getting in. "If they aren't finished setting up, we can't open the doors." Both of us rolled our eyes. We had just been at the Air Canada Centre two nights before where people are treated like gold. Events don't run late, and the seating staff know every inch of the place and where people are supposed to be. They don't leave disabled people standing around and they don't ignore you because it suits them. Anyway, two minutes after Mom mentioned people baking out on the sidewalk, the EMT's were called upstairs because someone had passed out. Nice.
Finally, as people started streaming in, they opened the mysterious black curtain and let us in. We headed for the first row of chairs we saw (oddly enough they were to the side of the stage) and the women was all "No, no you're down here..." Cue my shocked face. It was a frigging mosh pit. I'm not kidding. No seats, just a big old hole in front of the stage with stairs leading down to it. Right, I was going to stand for three hours. Not $#@# likely. I sat on the stage while Mom raced off to try to solve this latest problem. Fifteen minutes later, some promo chick comes right up to me, extending her hand out "I'm so amd so, I'm going to get you a chair and you can sit off to the side." Okay great, problem solved right? Only, we got there early for nothing. We got stuck in another corner where videographers and cameramen walked in front of us all night. I think what bugged me the most was the fact that the radio station never mentioned that the "seats" were in a mosh pit and we were expected to act like crazy fangirls. No kidding, people were actually given instructions on how to act/what to do and the station had plants everywhere holding up station signs. It was beyond tacky. Couple that with the fact that the same Canadians get nominated every year because Canada is totally lacking in original artists and honestly, the majority of the artists still have to play the fair curcuit to make a living. If they're smart, they write their own material, that's where the money is but it's not unusual to see one artist win the same category three years in a row. Not because they are oozing talent, but because they release new albums quickly and their competition is limited. BORING.
Best performance of the night went to Ronnie Dunn (formerly of Brooks and Dunn) and he's not even Canadian he was a " special guest.." Mom and I passed the time pretending to mug for the camera while we got completely ignored in our little corner, chowing down on bananas because we were starving and had snuck stuff in in our purses. Seriously, it was all a little pathetic. Big "pass" on the festivities when they came back to Hamilton in a few years. Total amateur hour on so many levels from the disorganized arena to the cheesy radio station plug. No thanks, I can do much better in the prize department. :-)
Oh well, at least I got to see Keith's smiling face again, even if it was only on the big screen! :-)And I got to breech security, not my first time doing that either, it's shocking how I seem to be "invisible" to most despite walking with crutches. Twice in the last month I've had people come to my place to pick up tickets only to have them walk right past me as I was sitting on a bench right in front of their face. I've often told Mom "I could rob a bank and no one would notice." Sad, but true.
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